Tim Lennon
“When I first stepped forward, I did so alone, as an individual. Now I step forward as part of a worldwide movement of survivors.”
Awake: Tim, thank you for sharing your story with our community. Please tell us a little about your life and background.
Tim Lennon: I grew up in Iowa in a midwestern Irish Catholic family, one of twelve children. Our family lived less than two blocks from the church. My parents were very religious and social, so priests were always honored guests and welcomed into our home. My parents saw one particular priest’s attention to me as a special honor.
I was a poor student in high school, at the bottom of the class. Having no prospects in work or college, I joined the Army soon after graduation. After completing my military service, I attended college for a while, during which time I became politically aware and committed to social activism. My activism arose from a moral objection to racism that I witnessed in the military, compelling me to pursue a life of political activism and social justice causes.
I had a long-term relationship with my ex, Lisa, of almost thirty years. After about a dozen years of our committed relationship, we decided to have children. We got married to provide a legal foundation for our children. We were blessed with two beautiful daughters, Fiona and Maya, born in 1998. Fiona now lives in New Orleans, and Maya lives in San Francisco. Lisa and I were divorced in 2015.
I worked for about thirty years in a San Francisco hospital in a union job repairing medical instrumentation. When PTSD symptoms overwhelmed my life, I retired at age 62 in 2008 with a generous union pension.
Q: Thank you for telling us about your family and your passion for political activism and social justice. I’m sorry that your PTSD was so severe. What would you feel comfortable sharing about your abuse?
A: I was twelve. I buried those memories for decades.
In 1995, I passed a demonstration in front of the San Francisco Catholic Cathedral. Activists held signs protesting a priest accused of sexually abusing a child. I stopped to observe and learned that the national organization Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests (SNAP) had sponsored this event with local survivors. Standing on the sidelines, I was inexplicably drawn to the survivors around me. That event provoked memories of our parish priest molesting me for several months in 1959, thirty-six years previously.
When these memories surfaced, I was immediately bedeviled by the galaxy of emotional challenges of PTSD, including social anxiety, nightmares, depression, and low self-esteem.
Like many sexual predators, my abuser might have seen my large family of twelve children as a fertile field for grooming children. His abuse usually coincided with a trip to the movies, a neighborhood baseball game, or a picnic in the regional park. Sexual molestation was always part of the activity. One time, he took me with another boy to the movies, and alternated molesting both of us. I said nothing, I did nothing, I froze.
One evening, he stopped by the house and invited me to join him at a neighborhood baseball game. As soon as I saw him, I hid in the basement. Unfortunately, one of my younger brothers found my hiding place and was only too happy to announce my location. Sexual molestation followed. On two different occasions, after abusing me, he took me to two different priests for me to “confess” my sins while he waited outside in the car. I did not understand what to confess. I remember that one of those priests came out to the car and yelled at my abuser.
After a couple of months, my abuse stopped, but only because he was caught abusing another child and was transferred to another parish. Later, I discovered he had been caught abusing in three different parishes in three other towns in Iowa before coming to my parish. The church knew.
In 2008, when I was 61, I began to have memories of a horrific, life-threatening rape by that priest, too brutal to describe here. My daughters were ten years old at the time, and I was horrified that such violence could be inflicted on a child. These memories sent me into a tailspin of PTSD problems. I cried for weeks and could barely work. I was blessed with the support of my wife and children, who gave me comfort during my outbursts of anger, depression, and great sadness. I retired from my job, engaged in EMDR therapy, and began volunteering with the SNAP national office on a near-full-time basis.
Q: Tim, I’m so sorry that you suffered this terrible abuse. Thank goodness you eventually received support from your family and SNAP. I know you had additional painful experiences when you contacted your diocese.
A: Yes. When my memories first surfaced, I wrote the Sioux City Diocese a letter dated February 8, 1996, describing that their priest sexually abused me for several months. I mentioned that I knew he abused other children. I also mentioned that he was caught in my parish, sent to another parish, and covered up. I called him a vicious criminal.
The church replied to my letter with an evasion: “The whole of our society for years chose to ignore the reality” of sexual abuse. No accepting of responsibility for transferring a violent child sexual predator to four or more parishes! The church spread out the blame, suggesting that families, parishioners, and society were also at fault. There was no apology or expressions of sympathy, no offers of support, no message of “how can we help?” The chancellor did not admit or explain the three previous accusations of sexual abuse by victims known to the bishop, when this priest was promptly transferred to yet another parish.
The sexual abuse was, at best, ignored by bishops and brother priests. It suggests complicity on the part of some and avoidance on the part of others.
Q: Your abuse disclosure was met with such cold disregard! Again, I’m sorry about the layers of pain you experienced. You mentioned that SNAP was an important part of your healing. How exactly did it help you?
A: Looking back on my rape and sexual abuse in 1959, I had no options as a victim of sexual abuse. Discovering SNAP in 1995 introduced me to others worldwide who were abused by clergy and were fighting back. I was no longer alone. The courage of the founder of SNAP and its national peer network encouraged me to stand up and speak up.
As I emerged from the pain of PTSD, I contacted SNAP founder Barbara Blaine and Executive Director David Clohessy, saying I wanted to volunteer and asking how I could help. In 2009, I began to engage with SNAP support and advocacy. I became the local SNAP leader in San Francisco and volunteered full-time with the national office. I welcomed the opportunity to work with SNAP as a way to focus my anger into positive actions. Along with the support of my family and professional therapy, this work put me on the path of healing.
I also volunteered as the SNAP correspondent for individuals who wrote to the national office seeking help and support. I communicated with dozens of survivors by phone and email every month; over time, this grew to thousands of survivors. I referred victims to the hundreds of local and national SNAP leaders scattered around the United States and Canada. I continued this volunteer correspondence for seven or eight years, until I transitioned to national leadership roles with SNAP.
In 2010, I joined the SNAP board of directors and served on the board until 2021. From 2018 to 2021, I served as board president. One of the first actions I organized was an international event, All Survivors Day, an initiative to celebrate those who took action to heal, those working to hold predators accountable, and those advocating to prevent future abuse. Over thirty actions took place in the United States and fourteen events in six nations overseas.
I continue to volunteer as a local leader with SNAP in Arizona, hosting two support groups a month. I continue to correspond with those who reach out seeking help and support.
Q: It’s inspiring to hear about all the work you have done to support survivors, Tim. Who would you say has been especially helpful to you in your journey as a survivor?
A: I would like to mention a few heroes. I first contacted SNAP founder Barbara Blaine in 1995 seeking support. She founded SNAP in 1988 and led the organization for decades. She was a compassionate, strong, dedicated, and fearless leader. I am not religious, but she was a saint if ever there was one. She saved the lives of so many survivors around the world. She changed the world.
David Clohessy was SNAP’s executive director for 25 years, becoming the propelling force that expanded the SNAP network from a few support groups to an international network. He was a promoter, cheerleader, and recruiter of local leaders. He used media and public events to bring the issue to light, encouraging other victims to step forward as leaders. His message of “you are not alone” was so important to me and other survivors.
I want to mention Terry McKiernan and Anne Barrett Doyle, who created the organization Bishop Accountability in 2002, an organization that created a database of abusers and documented the abuse. This massive database has been valuable to abuse victims seeking information.
I also admire Thomas Doyle, a priest and canon lawyer who was the first to expose the Vatican's failures and has been a vigorous advocate for survivors for decades. He was with the Vatican Embassy when he traveled to Louisiana in 1985 to investigate an abusive priest. There, he discovered the flawed practices of the church, including the cover-ups, transfers, and lack of accountability.
Q: Tim, thank you for all you have shared with us here. Are there any last thoughts that you would like to share in closing?
A: When I first stepped forward, I did so alone, as an individual. Now I step forward as part of a worldwide movement of survivors.
The #MeToo movement that ignited in 2017 exposed the ubiquity of sexual violence in society. As victims, we sometimes think we are the only ones. Yet we saw seventeen million retweets of #MeToo in the following months. When I went back to the Sioux City Diocese where I was abused to confront the bishop, I did a number of newspaper, radio, and TV interviews. Fifty years after the abuse, fifteen of my classmates said “Me Too!” because they were abused by the same priest.
I have written a book, Stand Up Speak Up: How Survivors Created a Movement to End Sexual Violence, which will be published in the next few weeks. I will have a link on my website. Together, we are changing the world!
—Interview by Erin O’Donnell
Note from Awake: We extend heartfelt thanks to Tim Lennon for sharing his story. We also want to acknowledge that every survivor’s path is different. We honor the journeys of all who have experienced sexual abuse by Catholic leaders and are committed to bringing you their stories. In addition to Tim’s story, we encourage you to read our previous Survivor Stories here.
If you have experienced sexual abuse, you can receive support through the National Sexual Abuse Hotline, 800-656-4673, which operates 24 hours a day. If you seek support from the Catholic Church, you can find the contact information for your diocesan victim assistance coordinator here. Also, Awake is always open to listening to and learning from survivors. If you would like to connect with us, we invite you to email Executive Director Sara Larson at saralarson@awakecommunity.org.
Awake is a community that strives to be compassionate, survivor-centered, faithful, welcoming, humble, courageous, and hopeful. We thank you for choosing your words with care when commenting, and we reserve the right to remove comments that are inappropriate or hurtful.
